Where it begins it must end.

[Taste of Treason]

The untouched sidewalk stretched before her, so much smaller than the last time she stood here. The overgrown garden from her childhood now lay completely abandoned, the grass overrunning the yellow tulips she once plucked silently in the night to hide below her pillow. She stood unmoving for several moments, taking in the graying bricks and the dusty windows. The home called to her, the one person who had appreciated its warmth as a place to feel safe rather than just a place to house their work. She walked through the grass, grasshoppers fleeing her feet and disappearing between the blades. A soft wind blew against her dark curls as she walked, someone, somewhere supported what she was about to do.

It had been seven months since she left the hospital. The world had seemed such a terrifying place, filled with unknown enemies and tragedy waiting at every corner. Upon arrival at school she had learned the truth. The truest enemies weren’t the strangers on the street; they were the people who had called her daughter so long ago. There was no tragedy greater than the one that had taken her childhood from her. It was here the horrors of her life began, and it was here she would put an end to the nightmares once and for all.

She paused when she reached her old bedroom window, picturing herself sneaking out it to peek in at the neighbors. Hours had been spent dreaming of living in another house with parents who would choose her over a sonnet. The girl turned, curiosity getting the better of her. Her feet carried her the twelve steps to the opposing window, she smiled as she remembered that always before it had taken nineteen. She was not a little girl anymore and soon she would stand at the feet of those who had always made her feel so small. She leaned against the newly painted shutters, a pale yellow the sung of happiness and love. She knew even before she looked inside she would find the little girl’s bedroom nearly exactly as it had looked nearly nine years prior.

The toys were gone, in their place were potted plants and artwork, but it was obviously a shrine to the girl Cel had always wished to be. She turned away, ashamed that once again she felt the longing for that life. She made her way back to her own window, glancing inside with a tiny bit of hope in her heart. She leaned against her faded childhood home and took in the small room. Where her bed had once stood were dozens of piles of papers, each scribbled on from top to bottom. There were notebooks and worn out pens strewn about the floor, no sign that the room had once belong to a girl who would rather dance than write and would rather sing than write poetry. With a new determination Cellar Door made her way to the back of the house, holding the cold doorknob in her hand and turning it with a smile.

[Taste of Treason]

The living area looked much the way it had before, new piles of books and some fading of the furniture were all that told Cel time had passed in the home as well as outside of it. As she closed the door the wind picked up, as if telling her she didn’t belong here. She forced the wooden entryway closed, laying her back against its frame as she turned back around. A gentle mumble crept through the long hallway and reached her. Her head cocked to the side as she tried to remember her father’s voice. It seemed so long ago, for a moment she couldn’t pull the sound to her. Then suddenly she was eight years old, her back pressed against this very door.

“Cellar, I need you to make some space in your room for some work,” The deep silky voice wrapped itself around her as it always did. “Now get away from that door before a draft comes through.”

She stood still, knowing soon enough mother would tell him what happened.

“Cellar, I asked you to do something.” His face was fuzzy in the memory, his features skewed. It was as though he was already disappearing from her life.

They stepped at the same moment, little Cel full of terror, the current Cel full of hate. Together they made their way across the room, each one curious about what they would find down the hall. Picture frames lined the hallway, filled not with portraits of family and friends, but with letters from famed poets and artistic types-praise for one piece of work or another. Unlike the rest of the house the frames were perfectly kept. The murmuring grew louder as she approached the study, her child self growing more nervous as she reached the threshold and stood in the doorway.

Her parents looked up from their hushed words, just as they had so many years ago.

The small child kept her head down, ready for the lecture that awaited her. Father stared at her, his eyes full of disappointment. “Your mother tells me you have been shirking your writing assignments as of late.”

It was a simple statement, to an outsider it might seem a silly thing to worry about, but in this house, it was everything.

“I do not believe I have to tell you how we feel about laziness young lady.”

Young Cel looked up, her eyes full of fear, “It is the epitome of selfishness.” The words left her lips without consent, it was programmed within her.

Her father stood, picking up a writing tablet in his left hand. He carried it to her, crouching down to her level. ‘I want this book full before you leave your room again. Is that clear young lady?”

The young girl lifted her eyes, “I haven’t eaten anything, Sir.”

“Next time we must think of these things before we ignore rules.” He waved his hand dismissively, and little Cel rushed off to her room. It had taken four days to fill the book, her stomach in knots as she scribbled the last few pages. When she had finally stepped from the room her mother had taken the book, glanced through it and tossed it into the fire.

Tears had run down her cheeks as she thought of the many hours spent on what was gone in moments.

“Does it hurt when something you work hard on is no longer useful, Cellar?”

She nodded, looking into mother’s blue eyes with a child’s devotion.

“That’s how your father and I feel about you.” She stood, clapping her child on the shoulder as she returned to the study.

[Taste of Treason]

Cel, now a young woman, shook the image from her head. There her parents sat, scribbling away as they always had. Tufts of graying hair mixed with the brown she remembered and their hands were beginning to wrinkle. Cell cleared her throat, a smile appearing on her face as her father looked up from his book.

“Cellar.” It was an accusation, anger filling in the corners of his eyes. Her mother glanced up and then returned to her work, intent on getting something down on the page.

“Did you ever miss me?” Cel’s words were much calmer than she felt, practiced a hundred times in her nightmares.

Her father took several steps towards her, his brow furrowed as though looking at something that should never have existed at all.

“Cellar, I..”

“No father! Did you ever miss me?”

He looked down at the floor, before glancing up. “How could I miss the biggest disappointment of my life?”

Cel pulled a dagger from her back pocket, the sharp metal glaring in the light of the room. In moments the blade was in her father’s chest, blood pouring from his mouth as he backed up, holding tight to the open wound. A scream filled the air and it was unclear if it was her own, it wasn’t until her father fell to the ground that Cel noticed her mother now against a wall, her face distorted in fear. Cel took deliberate steps, closing the space between mother and child in seconds.

The woman dropped to her knees, her hands clasped in front of her. “Cel ,baby. Please don’t do this.”

Cel smiled, croching down and lifting her mother’s face to look into her own. “Does it hurt to have the only person you ever loved become something useless?”

A sob convulsed through the aging woman, filling the room with her pain.

Cell placed her right hand on her mother’s shoulder, the blade still tucked in her left. With a single movement she grabbed the woman’s throat and forced the blade into her stomach, blood covering each of them. As she watched life leave her mothers eyes she looked at the floor.

“That’s how I feel about you.” Cel stood, tossing the knife aside. In the doorway she stopped, taking in the last view of her parents. That was where the dream had always ended, but now that it was here she noticed something different. The blood that covered the room was a bright hue of blue.

[Taste of Treason]

The girl slowly re-entered the room, taking no notice of her parents bodies as she searched for the knife. It sat against a wall, the carpet beneath it covered in blue droplets. Cel knelt, picking up the dagger by the hilt, studying the liquid. She wiped the blade on her black dress before placing the clean metal against her own arm, with a quick slash ruby liquid began to roll down her arm, tickling her skin as it fell to the floor and mixed with the blue. All the anger she had released found her again, and she quickly stood and made her way to her father’s fallen frame. “Who are you?” she whispered softly at his side, as though he could answer. She kicked at the body, connecting near his chest. “Who are you?” Her voice grew louder as she repeated the words, screaming as another kick hit his face. Blood splattered against the wall as her foot connected, her shoes quickly painted with the life she had taken. She kicked over and over again, screaming her question, until the very last drop of energy left her. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed on top of his corpse, her head laying in a pool of blood at his chest.

Her breathing slowly calmed, though she had no idea how long she lay there, wishing to hear a heartbeat so she could ask her questions only to stop it again.

When desperation was replaced by a calm complacent confusion the teen stood, she scanned the room before making her way back to the living area. A new frame, not yet hung caught her eye. She picked up the heavy item, looking through the glass.




To Rhanald Berevan,

I would like to personally thank you for your contributions to the mystic library, your works will be enjoyed for years to come. Thank you for your continued work with the temple enrichment team.

Niche Orlouge





The young girl stared at the page for a moment, memorizing each word before she tossed it against a wall. She walked out, the shattering of the glass her final goodbye.

[Taste of Treason]

Cellar took nothing from the home, nothing felt like it belonged to her. She made her way through familiar land, into a lush forest that had overgrown, hiding her old trail. It wasn't far now, already she could hear the moving water that so often lulled her to sleep. As she approached she removed her clothing, dipping them into the flow and scrubbing at the blood. The scent of copper filled the air and for the first time Cel realized she had actually done it. Years of dreaming about ending their useless existence and now it was finally done. Carefully she lay the clothes upon a rock to dry, before making her way back to the shore.

A thousand possibilities ran through her mind, was she adopted? Surely her parents would have used that to be rid of her years ago. It didn't make any sense, why would a mystic keep a human child they so obviously despised? The thoughts ran through her head as she dipped her body into the cool water, watching to blue disappear into its stream.

The frigid water brought her energy back, her skin tingling at the change. She dipped her head under, rubbing her fingers through her hair and allowing the river wash over her in hopes that when she rose she would have the new life she'd been dreaming of.